


It's raising my adrenaline

by Star55



Category: One Direction (Band), Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Dylan is in love with Harry because it's Harry and who wouldn't be?, M/M, Unrequited Crush, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star55/pseuds/Star55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dylan gets tickets to see the greatest band on earth for his birthday and he may or may not be in love with Harry Styles. (C'mon, who wouldn't be? It's <i>Harry fricken Styles</i>. This isn't helping his crush on the superstar.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's raising my adrenaline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedOrchid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedOrchid/gifts).



> Dead RedOrchid - every single one of your prompts were flawless. I wanted to write them all. I promise with all of my heart that after this amazing fest is over, I am going to complete the others for you because your prompts were that brilliant.

The secret to enjoying a long flight was good music, good movies and lots of snacks. Of the chocolate variety to keep awake when needed. Dylan has plenty of all of those, and he is on an extremely long flight to London, England that would absolutely require all of these things. His iPod is fully charged and stocked with all of his favourite songs, including, but not limited to at least three One Direction playlists outside of their actual albums.

Because, as luck would have it, he was finally, _finally_ seeing One Direction in the flesh.

Probably from way at the back of the stadium they were performing at but he didn’t care. He was _seeing_ them. In _concert_. It had only been a dream of his since he first heard _What Makes You Beautiful_. And not one that he was ashamed to share. Everyone on the Teen Wolf set knew his love for Harry Styles had no limits. 

The tickets had been a birthday present from Tyler Hoechlin and Holland, who had both been subjected to many, _many_ of Dylan’s rants and rambles about the band and his impromptu dance and sing-along parties. No one on set could escape his love of bursting out into a One Direction song whenever there was a break. Or at any time, really. When he had been given his birthday present, he had almost broken his face from smiling so much. Holland and Tyler were going to the concert with him as well, he couldn’t very well not invite them after they had got him tickets, but they were already in England for a Teen Wolf convention. Dylan had to arrive later because of other projects he had been working on at home in the States but there was nothing that could stop him from going to the concert of his life.

Once he settled in for his flight, Dylan shoots off a tweet of his travels and then shoves his phone back into his pocket. He sets up a movie to watch and relaxes as much as he can in his seat to watch it. 

The flight goes by surprisingly quick, Dylan thinks, but it could have been his excitement that makes it seem that way. By the time he is walking through the airport terminal with his backpack securely on his shoulders, Dylan is starting to feel a little drowsy. Tyler is waiting for him with a grin and open arms and Dylan all but collapses into them, burrowing his face in the other man’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent. 

“Hey,” Tyler greets. “How was your flight?”

“You know, I thought it had gone pretty quickly but I’m feeling it now,” Dylan replies honestly. “I think I might have a nap when we get back to the hotel.”

Tyler gently squeezes his shoulder and they head to collect Dylan’s luggage together. Tyler leads them to a black cab and the moment they are seated, Dylan lets his head fall onto Tyler’s shoulder, ready to doze off at any given moment.

The ride to the hotel is a little longer than Dylan is expecting but he spends most of it pressed up against Tyler’s side, falling in and out of sleep. He is pretty sure that he drooled at some point but Tyler doesn’t mention it. He’s a good friend. Holland is lounging on the bed when he and Tyler arrive at the hotel. Dylan immediately collapses next to her, face down, and she pats the back of his head twice in succession before gently scratching her nails across his scalp. It feels amazing. Dylan groans and closes his eyes. If he isn’t careful, he would fall asleep and would end up with a kink in his neck.

After a few long minutes of indulging in Holland scratching his scalp, Dylan pushes himself up off the bed and stands so he can stretch properly. He groans at the satisfying cracks and pops his back makes as the vertebra all go back into their proper positions. 

“Maybe you should sleep,” Holland says as she swings her legs off the bed. She slips her feet into a pair of tiny ballet flats that are on the floor at the end of the bed and straightens herself. “Tyler and I can go out and do some shopping while you get over your flight. The concert isn’t until tonight; we don’t have to be ready for hours.”

Dylan looks over at Tyler who just nods. “Alright,” he says. “I’m going to shower first, I still smell like the plane.”

“Yeah, you do,” Holland agrees with a crinkle of her nose. “We’ll come back in a few hours and wake you, okay?”

Dylan nods and gives them both a quick hug before they leave. He heads for the bathroom and looks around in awe. Tyler has outdone himself, Dylan thinks as he steps into the bathroom. The shower is roomy and the pressure of the water is heaven on Dylan’s sleepy body. He showers lazily before drying off and slipping into one of the beds in just his boxers and falls asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

***

The concert is better than Dylan had ever hoped it would be. The crowd is louder than anything he’s ever experienced before and even though their seats are so far away from the stage that the entire band looks tiny, it’s still one of the best experiences in his entire life. 

It gets better when Tyler leans over to tell him that they’re meeting the boys backstage after the concert. It means that they have to miss the last two songs to get there, but Dylan doesn’t mind. Holland mentions something about getting drinks afterwards, which sounds amazing to Dylan’s still ringing ears. 

The concert ends with a fireworks show and Dylan looks out in awe at the way the sky is illuminated with different colours. 

“This has been the best birthday present _ever_ ,” Dylan says excitedly while they waited for the boys to make their way backstage. They head to the One Direction dressing room where they’re told to wait. Dylan sits on the couch and bounces a little in excitement.

It doesn’t take long before sounds of multiple footsteps head their way and the door to the dressing room opens. Dylan is a little stunned when all of the boys introduce themselves to the three of them. He replies to the questions he is asked but he can’t remember what he has said at all. He just hopes that it isn’t something embarrassing like confessing his undying love for Harry. He hopes to at least wait until he’s had a few drinks before letting _that_ slip into conversation.

Not that he’s even in _love_ with him, per se, it’s more like he thinks that Harry is the best and he just wants to hang out with him and see what he’s like. Maybe become his friend, exchange numbers and catch up frequently whenever Harry is in LA. _That_ would be the best birthday present ever.

“Who’s up for a pint?” Niall asks after a while. 

“Nah, not me, mate,” Zayn replies, “I’m going home to my missus for a few days.”

Louis makes a whipping sound and Zayn just grabs his nipple over his shirt and twists in response. Louis makes a face and rubs a hand over his bruised nipple. “Well, Harold and I are in, aren’t we, Harold?”

Harry nods, a small smile on his face and a fond look in Louis’ direction.

“Yeah, I guess I’m in too, then,” Liam agrees and Dylan beams. 

“Do you all just want to go together?” Niall suggests, looking over at Holland, Tyler and himself.

“It makes sense to,” Holland says with a nod. 

The club they go to is loud and filled with dancing people that Dylan wants to join but Holland takes his hand and leads him upstairs to the VIP section where the others are heading. Their first drinks are ordered and Dylan downs a shot with Holland and Tyler before taking a beer to drink. He feels pleasantly loose limbed a few minutes later and he sits down on the couch next to Harry Styles.

“I love you so much, man,” Dylan says. He doesn’t even wince at the declaration because it’s so true.

Harry just smiles at him. “Thanks, bro, you too.”

Dylan may or may not swoon at that little comment. It’s a very manly swoon, though.

“Lou and I have watched every episode of Teen Wolf,” Harry says as he picks up his drink to have another sip. “We’re proper obsessed with it. We marathon the current season whenever we’re home. He really likes Tyler, though. I think it’s the muscles. Maybe the beard. I can’t grow a beard.” The last bit is said a little sadly but Dylan thinks that Harry suits no facial hair. He really wants to reach out and touch Harry’s face just to prove to him but he decidedly is not drunk enough for such a bold of a manoeuvre. 

Across the room, Louis is talking with Tyler and Holland, all three of them are laughing and it makes Dylan’s stomach tingle pleasantly to see his friends getting along so well with the One Direction boys. It’s an absolute necessity if they’re all going to be best friends, he thinks.

“Thanks, man,” Dylan says, knocking back some more of his drink. “I can’t believe you like Teen Wolf, that’s so awesome.”

“It’s a good show,” Harry replies and Dylan knows that he’s being sincere. He falls in love just a little more. 

They talk for a while and Dylan’s excited feelings eventually calm down enough so that he is able to have a proper conversation with Harry. He’s very nice, Dylan realises, even nicer than he thought Harry was. He had come across interviews that made Harry out to be some kind of arrogant boy who thought he deserved the world but nothing could be further from the truth.

A short while later, everyone is doing more shots and Dylan winces as the alcohol burns down his throat. He chases it with a fruity drink that Harry’s ordered for him, sipping on it slowly. It’s delicious, he thinks as he takes the pineapple off the side to eat. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Dylan says after his fourth drink – they’re really sweet and addictive, he thinks. “Can you sing into my phone? I want you as my personal ringtone.” He shoots Harry a hopeful look and Harry just laughs and nods.

“What song?” he asks and Dylan bounces in his seat like an excited three year old.

“ _What Makes You Beautiful_ , of course!” He fumbles a few times with his phone before he finds the right app. He eagerly passes the phone to Harry and he knows his entire face lights up when Harry starts singing into his phone. Dylan laughs and claps his hands at the end, and he’s pretty sure that the recording got that too but he doesn’t care. This is literally the best day of his entire life. He leans against Harry as he saves the recording to his phone before stuffing it back into his pocket. 

Harry passes him another drink a few minutes later and Dylan eagerly accepts it, downing half of it in one go. Harry’s hand appears out of nowhere and takes the pineapple off the rim. Dylan would be upset but the way Harry’s lips close over the piece of fruit make Dylan lose all of his verbal functions. He stares. He knows he is staring but he can’t help it. Harry’s mouth is extremely enticing.

“Do you want to dance?” Dylan asks, setting his drink down on the table in front of them.

“Sure,” Harry replies with a nod. He sets his empty glass down on the table next to Dylan’s and stands up. They make their way to the little dance floor on the other side of their VIP section and start dancing. Dylan has no finesse when it comes to dancing and he doesn’t tend to care what people think of him but there’s the voice in the back of his mind telling him that it’s _Harry freaking Styles_ that he’s dancing with and if there’s any guy that Dylan would want to get up close and personal with like this, it’s _Harry freaking Styles_. 

“You’re a good dancer,” Harry says and Dylan beams at him in thanks. Harry says something else but Dylan frowns.

“I can’t hear you,” he says probably louder than is necessary. Harry comes closer and leans in, his breath hot against Dylan’s ear. 

“Holland has been watching you all night,” Harry repeats. “I think she likes you.”

Dylan snorts at that. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “We’re very much like siblings. Plus, she’s dating someone else.”

Harry shrugs and leans a little more on Dylan. Whatever he was about to say is cut off when Louis suddenly appears out of nowhere.

“Alright, Harold, I think you’ve had enough,” he says. Dylan looks between the two and Harry’s arm immediately slips around Louis’ shoulder, leaning in close. He wants to protest because he and Harry were having a really good time and Dylan thinks they might have made out a little if Louis hadn’t interrupted.

“Wait,” Harry says. “Here, give me your phone, we can catch up while you’re still in England.”

Dylan immediately gives over his phone and Harry puts his number into it, shooting himself off a text as well so he also has Dylan’s number.

“I do yoga on a morning,” Harry says. “You should come with me.”

Dylan nods, smiling. “Yeah, alright, man, sure.”

Harry kisses his cheek and Dylan just might faint from it. 

He can still feel the heat of Harry’s lips against his skin as he collapses into bed later.

*** 

Dylan studiously ignores Holland’s teasing as he gets ready the next morning to meet Harry for yoga. Harry had texted him the address at four in the morning and Dylan had immediately responded, through sleep hazy eyes, that he would be there. 

“Have fun with _lover boy_ ,” Holland says cheekily as Dylan pulls on a pair of trainers. He shucks on a hoodie and presses a smacking kiss to her cheek as he dashes out of the hotel room. He catches a taxi to the location Harry had texted him and makes his way into the building. 

Holland’s teasing has absolutely no grounds for anything actually happening, his mind tells him. He’s just bros with Harry. He may have a tiny little crush but who _doesn’t_ have a crush on Harry Styles? Anyone who doesn’t is clearly lying. He follows the directions on his phone to the room that Harry is in and the first thing he notices is that Harry is shirtless and wearing a _tiny_ pair of bright pink shorts. Dylan may choke on his own saliva a little. 

“Hey,” Harry drawls, “you made it.”

“I did… That I did,” Dylan mumbles, nodding. He sets down his water bottle and phone on the little bench next to Harry’s things and turns to him. “Do I need to be shirtless too?” he asks.

Harry smiles. “If you want,” he replies. “At home, I do yoga naked, so it’s up to you.”

In a bold move, Dylan takes off his shirt, socks and shoes and joins Harry next to the spare yoga mat. Harry presses play on his phone and soft music fills the small room. Harry’s slow, deep voice speaks softly over the music as he mumbles what positions they’re in next.

Dylan falls on his ass three times in the space of ten minutes and he’s laughing at himself when Harry pauses the music.

“Have you ever done yoga before?” Harry asks, curiosity written all over his face. 

Dylan shoots him a sheepish look. “Uh, not so much,” he replies. “I’m terrible at it, aren’t I?”

Harry shakes his head and grins. He smiles a lot, Dylan thinks. He thinks it’s lovely that Harry can smile about all of the little things, even Dylan falling on his ass during yoga. “Here, I’ll show you how.” 

The last thing Dylan expects is Harry to start actually manhandling him. He bites back a whimper and lets Harry move him into a position that previously had Dylan flailing around with no clue what was going on.

“The most important thing to remember,” Harry continues and Dylan swallows thickly, only just realising that he was ignoring everything Harry had been saying in favour of concentrating on the way Harry was pressed against him. “Is to breathe. Yoga may not look strenuous but breathing deeply can help positions a lot.”

“Uh…” Dylan mumbles, taking a deep breath. Harry’s pressed right up against him, their bodies flushed against each other and Dylan is certain that he’s popped a boner in his underwear. Well, that’s not embarrassing or anything. 

He belatedly realises that he is shirtless. He’s shirtless and so is Harry and Harry’s skin is warm against Dylan’s own. He’s having a little trouble breathing.

“There we go,” Harry says in that slow, soft voice of his. Really, it should be illegal, Dylan thinks. He’s just so… _wonderful_. Dylan wants to stay like this forever. It would be nice. There’s a moment when Dylan looks up that Harry’s face is impossibly close to his own. He licks his lips, feeling the dryness across them. His entire mouth is dry. Which is super unattractive but he doesn’t really want to break the spell and go get his water bottle. Harry smells incredible as well, Dylan notices. Not that he doesn’t always smell incredible, but even after working up a little bit of a sweat, he doesn’t smell bad at all. 

“Uh,” Dylan mumbles. Harry’s breath is hot against his neck and Dylan thinks _this is it_! before he’s tilting his face towards Harry’s. He knows all of the signs, he can’t be reading them wrong, can he? Just as Dylan is expecting Harry’s lips to touch his own, he’s suddenly, but gently, placed back down on the ground.

“Hey, boo,” Harry’s voice rings out, louder than before. 

“Are you almost done, Haz? We’re going to be late,” Louis says from across the room and does this guy have the worst timing ever or _what_?

Dylan licks his lips again and tries not to glare at Louis. He likes Louis, he really does. The guy reminds him a little of himself, and of Stiles, but he really has the _worst_ timing ever when it comes to Dylan almost getting up close and personal with one Harry Styles. The literal worst.

“Yeah,” Harry replies with a nod. He moves to pick up his phone that was still playing music softly, leaving Dylan lying alone on his own yoga mat. He can’t help but watch the way Harry’s back muscles move as he squats down to roll up his yoga mat carefully, making sure it’s completely even on both sides. This guy really is one of a kind. 

Louis hands Harry a t-shirt and Dylan briefly mourns the loss of Harry’s tanned, tattooed skin disappearing from view a moment later. Louis whispers something to Harry that Dylan couldn’t make out even if he tried before Harry’s looking back over his shoulder at Dylan.

“Same time tomorrow?” Harry offers and Dylan nods his head dumbly, finally getting up off the mat.

“Sure, man,” he replies with a crooked smile. 

Louis gives him a strange look before he and Harry turn around to leave. Dylan closes his eyes once they’re gone and plonks down on the ground haphazardly. He’s screwed. Not literally. Not yet, at least, but maybe? He isn’t even sure anymore. Not when Louis keeps giving him these weird glances. Harry’s expression just before he was about to kiss Dylan sticks in his mind. He wasn’t making _that_ up, was he? He wasn’t that clueless when it came to reading signals from people. He’s an expert at it… Well, maybe not an expert but he isn’t _utterly_ clueless.

*** 

Holland laughs at him and pats him on the shoulder when he tells her his dilemma. Some friend she is. She cuddles him after, though, so Dylan forgives her straight away. 

“Honey,” she says soothingly. “I just don’t want you getting in over your head. We have to go back home soon.”

“Who’s talking about getting in over their head?” Dylan questions. “I’m just talking about making out a little and maybe sucking his cock. I’m not in love with him or anything. It’s just… It’s _Harry freaking Styles_ , Holland. What’s not to love?”

Holland hums in the back of her throat and scratches her fingernails across his scalp, relaxing him immediately. Holland has it all wrong, Dylan isn’t in over his head, he just wants to kiss Harry and maybe get a little horizontal with him, nothing else. It’s no big deal. Not at all.

*** 

The next morning, Dylan shuts off his alarm and blinks blearily around the room. Right. Yoga. He shuffles out of bed and into the bathroom where he brushes his teeth and relieves himself in the toilet. Within half an hour, he’s making his way to Harry’s little yoga studio. He’s probably too early but he figures that he can get some practice in before Harry gets there, just so that he doesn’t make a fool of himself again. There’s nothing more embarrassing than making a fool out of yourself in front of someone you hope will want to make out with you after, he thinks. 

Dylan trudges up the stairs of the building and down the corridor to the yoga studio. The door is ajar and the lights are on already. He perks up, realising that Harry must be there already. He pushes the door open a little and his jaw promptly drops open in shock.

He swallows thickly when he sees Harry and Louis really going at it. 

“Don’t like the way he looks at you,” Louis says, his voice gruff. Dylan blinks. Wait, what?

“Lou,” Harry says breathily. “He _doesn’t_.”

Louis snorts. “You’re so oblivious. You’re lucky I love you.” There’s a pause and Dylan blinks again, trying to focus his brain on what Louis just said. “Just get me off already, Styles.”

“That’s future Mister Tomlinson to you,” Harry replies as he sinks gracefully to his knees in front of Louis.

Oh. Oh _wow_. This is… _wow_. 

Dylan blinks and steps backwards, ready to turn around and never come back but the door creeks at the movement and both Harry and Louis’ heads snap up at the noise. 

“Dylan?” Harry asks. He still sounds a little breathless and Dylan is trying really hard not to picture Harry on his knees in front of Louis. He _knows_ exactly where that leads to. He’s done it plenty of times himself. 

“Uh,” Dylan says awkwardly. He pushes the door open a little more and immediately sees the slight smirk on Louis’ face. He has his arm wrapped low around Harry’s waist and they’re pressed flush against each other’s sides. “Yeah, hi. Sorry, I’m early.”

“It’s alright,” Harry replies, still smiling. Like Dylan didn’t just catch them making out and then Harry almost giving Louis a blow job. 

“Sorry for… Uh… well,” Dylan coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck. “I can go? If you want?”

“It’s okay, Louis was just leaving,” Harry says like nothing awkward has happened at _all_. Which it has. Or Dylan wouldn’t be feeling like he is now. It’s all kinds of awkward. _Very_ awkward, in fact.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Louis says to Harry. 

“Okay, boo,” Harry replies softly. Louis has a look of complete and utter _fondness_ that crosses his face, it’s the only way Dylan can describe it, as he leans in and kisses Harry softly on the lips. They part a moment later and Louis smacks Harry lightly on his ass, causing Harry to yelp and grin, playfully shoving Louis out of the door.

Harry’s still smiling even after Louis has left and he turns back to Dylan looking every bit of a guy who is happily in love. Dylan feels like an utter idiot. He takes a breath and scuffs the toe of his shoe on the ground. 

“So, uh… You and Louis?” he says stupidly. 

Harry nods, that look of adoration crossing his face again. “Yeah,” he replies. “He’s the best, isn’t he?”

“I’m just going to come out and say it, and this is, like, really, _really_ awkward,” Dylan starts, “but I thought you were flirting with me?”

Harry bites his lip. Shit, even that is enticing. “Um, no…” he says. “I’m engaged.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dylan replies. “I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean to make it awkward for you and Louis but I honestly didn’t know. Or I wouldn’t have, you know, been thinking you were flirting with me the last few days.”

“Sometimes people mistake kindness for flirting,” Harry says slowly, “it happens all of the time.”

Dylan nods. “Yeah, I… Yeah.” 

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says after a few moments. “Louis thought I was flirting, too. I’m sorry for leading you on.”

“Dude,” Dylan starts with a grin. “If there’s anyone on this Earth I’d like to be led on by, it’s definitely you.”

Harry smiles at him. “Thank you,” he replies. “Alright, so, do you want to keep your shirt on for yoga again today or…?”

Dylan licks his lips as Harry takes off his shirt automatically. He can’t help it, the guy is still hot, even if he is stupidly in love and practically married to one of his band mates.

Cheekily, Dylan takes off his shirt as well and doesn’t miss Harry’s gaze raking over his bare chest. He knows it isn’t much, not like Harry’s but the fact that Harry is definitely eyeing him makes Dylan’s chest puff out with pride. “May as well even the playing field.”


End file.
